Chance Encounter
by jo taylor
Summary: Unrequited love, alcohol abuse - life at the Academy was not dull for young cadet Chakotay!


Disclaimer: Chakotay, the Academy etc belong to Paramount etc. Storyline is mine.

Authors note: I don't know how you will like this as I have had no response to 'Suffer the Children'. I had a yearning to explore Chakotay's formative years, and the Maquis seemed a good place to start. This story is set at the Academy and seemed an interesting place to 'visit'. Trials and tribulations, unrequited love, alcohol abuse etc. I had fun, I hope you do too.

Feed back always welcome - sbenson@cwcom.net

CHANCE ENCOUNTER

Blood pounded loudly in his ears, legs pumping relentlessly as he pushed his body harder and harder rounding the corner of the main building at full pelt. What was that now? Eighteen? Nineteen? He was no longer sure exactly how many times he had lapped the Academy's portals; only that he was utterly exhausted. 

All that effort and still he was unable to quell the despair twisting constantly through his thoughts. He had hoped a bit of physical punishment would tire his body into a submission his mind would have good sense to follow; and for just one night this week he could sleep without dreaming. 

Muscles screaming in protest at such misuse suddenly decided to give up. He came to a grinding halt, dragging in great panting gasps of air. Hands pressed tightly against his trembling thighs, his head drooped down toward shaky knees ready to buckle at the slightest provocation. Sweat dripped steadily from nose and chin in soft splashes that were quickly sucked away in the sweltering heat. In the near distance he could discern the faint tap, tap, tap of high-heeled shoes heading in his general direction. It was way past curfew, but right now he did not give a damn. Besides, whoever was heading along the landscaped path was in violation of the regulation too. It had to be at least 3am - hardly worthwhile going back to bed. Maybe a shower and a stiff drink would work better than this obviously pointless marathon.

The footsteps stopped in front of him and he immediately sensed the intensity of unwanted scrutiny directed at his bowed head. Raising his eyes slightly, his belligerent gaze came to rest on a pair of slim feet lovingly encased in expensive, designer footwear. Dark, narrowed eyes travelled slowly upward, taking in long silk clad legs before reaching a tight fitting black dress that did little to hide its occupant's shapely figure. Before his eyes could reach her face he was brought up short by a disturbingly familiar voice. His impolite exhortation stuck painfully in his throat.

"Cadet Chakotay, I believe?"

Shit! Of all the instructors, professors and teachers at the Academy, it would have to be T'Mel who ran across him. If he had not been in trouble before, he certainly was well in it now.

"Ma'am," he replied shortly, straightening himself into as near attention as his aching body would allow.

Cool eyes assessed him speculatively. The fact she was dressed so ... differently, phased him totally. He had never heard of anyone seeing T'Mel sans flight uniform before. The whole student population of Starfleet Academy walked in fear of this instructor's displeasure. The popular belief she could stop a Klingon riot with the raising of an eyebrow may have been an exaggeration; but right now he would have given anything to be someplace else. Standing a good four inches taller than her, even in her heels, he felt ridiculously shorter and shrinking by the second.

"Care to offer an explanation, Cadet?" The half-Vulcan's voice was calm and compelling. It seemed impossible to lie to this woman. You could always try, of course; but she saw right through you every damn time, and then you were in real trouble. No one appeared informed as to the other half of her heritage, though many and imaginatively varied had been the suggestions by fellow students; none of which were complimentary. As far as Chakotay was concerned, dealing with the Vulcan side was more than bad enough.

"Couldn't sleep, Ma'am." Well, that at least was true. He had not had a full eight hours sleep since his father had enlightened him of his intention to attend the Academy's end of year ceremony. However, this was of no concern to anyone but himself. And the stony faced creature before him would be the last person he would choose to confide in.

"I see. So you thought you would flout regulations and take a stroll around the grounds despite the enforcement of curfew."

Considering the sweat still pouring down his body and the unhealthy cast to his face, calling his exertions 'a stroll' was certainly an understatement. Not waiting for a reply, T'Mel took a few slow, deliberate steps around him. He stiffened his spine, trying to stop his bone weary body from trembling under her cutting gaze. "Why can't you sleep, Cadet Chakotay?"

He was determined not to tell her. What would this icy Vulcan know of fear? Of the uncertainties plaguing his mind? She could never understand the loss of face that haunted what meagre repose he was granted. When the time came for the Academy Roll of Honour to be read he knew the absence of his name would cause his father's face to fall, and that disappointment would finally destroy what little accord they had left. The tenuous understanding that both he and his father had worked so hard to maintain since his abrupt decision to join Starfleet would irrevocably evaporate.

"I suggest you sit down before you collapse. I have no wish to drag you back to your room; yet it offends my sense of order to leave you as an untidy heap in the middle of the path." She moved over to a half-concealed bench, gesturing for him to join her. Some resistance deserted him as his body relaxed onto the hard wood. His eyes flitted agitatedly, settling nowhere, trying desperately to avoid meeting her ebony gaze.

"It does take two to make conversation." She paused. "If you have a need to talk, I'm willing to listen."

The subtle change in her voice brought his wandering attention to her face, and once they had locked eyes there seemed no escape. She rested easily against the backdrop of yellow/gold flowers, her harshly beautiful face softened by the dim concealed lighting, and astonishingly he felt a sudden urge to open up ... a desperate need to talk. There was no-one close enough to him who could possibly comprehend the conflict that existed between Kolopak and himself; but at least he was assured that his confidences would go no further than this bench.

"My father will be attending the end of year ceremony and I am going to fail." The bald, uncompromising statement did not seem to register on T'Mel's face. Her silence encouraged him to continue his confessional in tiny, painful pieces. "I enrolled here against his wishes. I scorned his teachings; turned my back on my family." His mind shuddered under the impact of what he was saying and for once it was not just words. It actually meant something; hitting him deep within his soul. "I thought ... I believed ... if I could do well here, pass with honours, he would have to accept that my decision was right. He would have to respect me for who I am, not who he thinks I should be." His eyes had dropped from hers and were drilling fire into an inoffensive shrub a few metres away.

"Is your father so unforgiving of his son?" Her soft, comforting tone of voice sat at odds with the woman he had come to dread. 

He fixed on her face again and for a brief moment there was something strangely familiar in the cast of her features. "No. My father is the most forgiving and open man I have ever known. It is his son who is unforgiving." The mere thought of Kolopak had instinctively formalised his speech; a lapse noted and stored away by the ever astute T'Mel.

"Then what is it that removes sleep from you? A fear of personal failure, or the fear your father won't respect you?"

She did not sound like T'Mel now. She sounded Spirits help him, just like Kolopak. Calm, logical, quiet ... twisting at his thoughts, trying to dig into his soul.

"Does it matter whether it's me or Kolopak who sees this as failure?" His voice rose in angry refutation at her probing. "I am going to fail!" 

"Second guessing your instructors is never productive and always inaccurate." She edged closer to him, the rustle of her dress momentarily distracting his tumultuous thoughts. "Why do you believe you will fail?"

"I can't concentrate. I can't remember." Chakotay leapt to his feet, the ancient cry of young against old bursting out from him, "You just don't understand!"

T'Mel sighed softly. "Ah, you have an untidy soul, Chakotay. Before you can become one with your studies you must first become one with yourself." She reached forward tapping him lightly on the chest, her other hand lifting briefly to her forehead. "It is vital that heart and mind act as one if you are to become who you must be. Willingly you walked away from a belief that could have helped you ... could still help you. I suggest you search those two vital components and find a way to resolve this inner conflict. No-one can make you believe in yourself except you."

"That doesn't sound very..." He did not want to offend her, but she was acting so contradictory to her Vulcan heritage. 

"Logical?" She smiled strangely. "No, not a very logical exposition, I must agree. Well, not everything can be decided by logic alone. I learned that from my father."

His quizzical expression prompted a further response. "You may not know me, Chakotay, but I remember you." Again that enigmatic little smile. "You were always a rash, rebellious youth even in your youngest years."

"I should know you?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"My father named me Sacheyewa." 

She let the knowledge sink into his wearily befuddled mind, watching silently as recognition slowly dawned. "You are daughter to my father's brother-friend?!" His lapse into the ancient formal title amused her. Perhaps this young man was not so far removed from his father after all.

"When my mother's logic fails me, Father's wisdom invariably comes to my rescue. You should use all that is available to you, Chakotay; let it aid you in every endeavour. Don't let foolish pride stand between you and your full potential." She stood abruptly, taking him by surprise. "I have a first year class to tackle in less than four hours and I need my rest. I suggest you try and do the same, Cadet."

In a few strides T'Mel's imposing figure had rounded the corner of the administration building and was out of sight. Chakotay sat down heavily on the bench. Sacheyewa!

He shook his head, as if trying to clear the brain fog muddying his synapses. Cheyma, his father's best friend, had left Dorvan when Chakotay was still very young, but the friendship between him and Kolopak had been closer than brothers. The sheer strength of that bond continuing to hold the two men together despite the vast distances that now separated them. Chakotay remembered conversations abruptly ending whenever he entered a room - conversations consistently pertaining to Cheyma's defection.

He could not imagine the battle that must rage constantly in Sacheyewa. An individual born with Vulcan logic on the one hand, and her father's fiery beliefs on the other. Yet, she was the calmest, most centred person he had ever encountered. Maybe that was what made her so fearsome? Thinking back, he realised that he had never heard her voice raised against her pupils or ever seen her lose her cool. She seemed empowered with a capacity to control the most unruly of students with pure power of personality. It was a lesson he knew he should try and learn. Stretching wearily, he hauled himself upright, then jogged sedately back to his dormitory room; thoughts still jumbled, but for an entirely different reason.

The sight that met his eyes when he opened the door hit harder than he expected. Quite used to living in the disgusting tip that was his room, he was surprised to now find the familiar mess seriously offensive. First thing in the morning he would tidy this place up. 

Throwing himself on the bed, crumpled sheets rucking uncomfortably under him, he tossed and turned for several minutes, before bouncing back off the bed with a string of oaths. Damn the woman! Quickly he dragged the offending sheets from the mattress, bundling them into the recycling unit. Next he started on finding the floor ... well, who wanted to sleep anyway?

About an hour later he was done. The devastation that had been his quarters was now, miraculously, transformed into a textbook version of Starfleet requirements. Clothing, clean and soiled, that had languished in shadowy corners now rested in drawers or piled in designated laundry receptacles. PADDs were stacked neatly on the desk, revealing a surface which he now could see needed an inordinate amount of elbow grease; sticky coffee rings and dusty layers hiding its supposedly shiny, light grey sheen. Still, that would have to wait until morning. 

During the excavation process he had unearthed the heavy packet he now held loosely in his hands. His mother's bold handwriting adorned the label. He had put it to one side on its arrival a few days ago; being late for class and not wanting to open it there and then, he had thrown it into the melee to be dealt with later. Within minutes of his return it had been buried and forgotten. Lying down on the freshly made bed, he turned the packet over curiously. His mother always wrote, always made calls, but she never, ever, sent gifts. Presents were to be handed personally to the recipient so that both giver and receiver could share pleasure from the exchange. It was one of her cherished rules and one the whole family unfailingly adhered to. 

So why was she sending him something like this? He quickly unwrapped the bulky packet, discovering a note tucked snugly into the wrapping. Her concise hand had written: 'My son, I send this with my blessing and that of the Sky Spirits. Be well'.

Intrigued, he finished divesting the contents of their covering until the light grey metal sat heavily in his hand, a flood of memories reaching out to swamp his tired mind. If this gift had arrived a few days earlier he might very well have thrown it away, his mother's offering or not. Instead, he put it carefully away and returned to collapse on the bed. Perhaps he could still catch a few hours rest before classes started again.

"Hey, Chakotay! You'll never guess ... Whoa, what the hell happened in here?!"

Jannay's abrupt arrival had thrown the door back hard against the bed, brutally jolting Chakotay from a particularly deep sleep. Over-stretched muscles screamed in pain as he instinctively struggled upright, glaring murderously at the unwelcome interloper through red-rimmed eyes.

"You got yourself a girlfriend at last?" Jannay nudged playfully. "Man, I have never seen this place look so tidy. Are you feeling okay?"

His friend's cheerful banter did little to alleviate the foul temper that was beginning to course through his stressed out system. "What is your problem, Jannay! Forgotten what a room should look like?" His self-righteous tone had no effect on the tall, ginger-haired recruit who wandered further into the room, uninvited. 

"If you're staying, at least shut the damned door," Chakotay snarled, knowing that nothing short of a phaser blast or two would remove the ever inquisitive Jannay from his company. Swinging tired, aching legs to the floor; he found it disturbingly odd to actually feel the carpet beneath his bare feet. He had become accustomed to treading on whatever clothing happened to have been dumped there the night before, and he now found he quite liked this new sensation.

"So, what's so important that you have to get me up at the crack of dawn?" A yawn overtook him and his eyes began to close involuntarily. Right now he could probably go back to sleep sitting up.

"Do you have any idea what time it is? We have flight simulations in twenty minutes! Chakotay!!" The shocking sting of Jannay's hand hitting bare flesh brought him round again. "Are you listening to me?" The disinterested nod encouraged the young man to further confidences. "If we do well today, we get moved into T'Mel's classes permanently."

So far the Vulcan instructor had only taken their group for odd sessions; usually when other tutors had been ill, or called to more pressing duties. And although you felt as though you had been locked in a room with a Klingon targ, she was universally acknowledged as the best flight instructor at the Academy. Getting into her classes almost guaranteed a pass. Usually with honours.

"Isn't that great! I mean, I know she scares me shitless, but wow ... What an opportunity!"

Jannay's enthusiasm was not infectious - at least not to one Native American who had recently been engaged in intimate conversation with said instructor.

"Listen, I gotta run," Jannay continued. "You now have about fifteen minutes to get your ass in gear. See you in there." With the same rush of energy that had catapulted him into the room bare moments before, Jannay now exited slamming the door hard against the end of the bed. With an exasperated groan, Chakotay staggered over to the wash unit.

Dishevelled and out of breath, he made it into the hanger with barely a second to spare. Quickly making his way over to Jannay's side, he tugged his uniform into some semblance of neatness. Eyes still puffy from lack of sleep, hair tousled, he joined the informal line. "You look like shit," Jannay kindly informed him.

"Take your places!" Flight Instructor Thomas' clipped order brought the ragged bunch of students quickly to attention as he entered the area. A long term Starfleet officer, he was brusque to the point of aggression; current rumour favoured that he had been honourably, but unwillingly, sidelined to the Academy and was now taking his frustrations out on the next generation.

Chakotay took his seat quickly in the circle of simulator consoles that took up an enormous amount of space in the cramped training room. Each unit faced outward so students were not distracted by, or tempted to look at, other pupil's efforts.

"Put your headphones on."

He adjusted the uncomfortably bulky headpiece to sit firmly over his thick hair, pulling the microphone down to his lips. 

"Are you all receiving me?" Thomas asked. "Indicate with a thumbs up if this message is clear."

Glancing at Jannay, Chakotay saw the eager wave of his hand and followed suit. Tara was having difficulty with reception it seemed, and the class waited patiently while headsets were exchanged. In the brief respite, Chakotay scanned his console, trying to get his sleep-deprived brain to concentrate on the controls.

"You will treat each simulation as if you were flying a real mission. I want all notations, course changes, and observations noted clearly via your headset. I also want to be reassured that you are awake and aware. Do I make myself clear?"

A further round of acknowledgements and all too soon the test started. For a while Chakotay did quite well. He managed to get his shuttle down on Mars without mishap and negotiated through Risian space with little trouble; yet as the assignment continued, his lack of sleep began to catch up on him. A downward spiral in his concentration pulled him into more and more dangerous jockeying, inevitably ending in the destruction of his vessel - managing to write off the light, highly manoeuvrable craft in a ridiculously easy, navigable asteroid belt. It had been a stupid and careless mistake. One that in all probability ensured he would never make it onto T'Mel's intensive training course.

He became aware of her presence moments after the crash. She was strolling around the consoles, PADD in hand, noting the performances logged and making assessments. As she drew nearer he wished he could wipe the damning details from his computer, but waited granite faced and unblinking as she reached his terminal. Not by the tiniest movement did she acknowledge his presence; she simply downloaded the data and moved on to the next candidate. The shapeless uniform she wore hid the curvaceous figure he now knew she possessed. The ebony fall of hair that had hung about her like a curtain was now tightly bound back in a severe style that highlighted her chiselled features. For a moment the distress at his poor performance warred for his attention with something much more primal.

The order to dismiss came not a second too soon as far as he was concerned. Quickly he headed toward the canteen and much needed sustenance. The run from last night coupled with his skipping breakfast had seriously depleted his energy levels and now he was starving. 

Jannay caught up with him, matching his stride. "I could eat a horse right about now. That was some test, eh?" the young man chattered pleasantly. "My stomach was all over the place through that asteroid field. How'd you do? I think I did okay. Well, I mean I didn't actually hit anything; and I got round Jupiter without a hitch."

Jannay's well meaning discourse was doing little to help Chakotay keep a rein on his bubbling temper. He knew he had failed miserably. Why couldn't he just be left alone, dammit! If he had been eight years old and not eighteen he would have been out of that training room before T'Mel even had a chance to see just how badly he had let her down. He felt stupid and inadequate. He should never have believed he was good enough to enrol in the Academy. His grim, stony silence finally burrowed itself through his friend's thick hide and as they entered the canteen Jannay hastily deserted him for more congenial company.

That afternoon was set aside for personal studies and to Chakotay, at least for today, it meant an opportunity to catch up on some much needed sleep. As he walked down the corridor to his room he could see there was a note attached to his door. The unmistakable Federation seal at the head of the paper screaming 'official notification'. The meal he had wolfed down minutes before now churned uncomfortably in his stomach and for a long time he simply stood and stared at his door from a distance. 

'This is ridiculous', he scowled at himself. He could hardly spend the rest of his life in awe of reading a sheet of Academy note paper - much better to read the damn thing and get it over with. He took it down gingerly, hardly believing what he was reading. Yet there it was in black and white with his name and cadet number in bold capital letters. Confirmation of his acceptance onto T'Mel's advanced course! He almost fell through the door into his room and spent the next thirty minutes sitting on his bed grinning at the paper in his hands. A determination to live up to T'Mel's trust in his abilities suddenly burned furiously within him; a large portion of doubts leaving his mind. She may be daughter to his father's oldest friend, but that, he knew, would have had absolutely no influence on her judgement. He had been accepted because of his abilities and for no other reason.

It was amazing what untroubled sleep could accomplish for a young mind. Within hours he was refreshed and ready to tackle the heap of study work that sat on his now visible desk. Tara had put her head around the door earlier and, seeing Chakotay deep in study, had left him after just a few words. She had been visiting quite a lot lately; almost shadowing him for the last couple of days. Though he found her company pleasant enough, he had other things on his mind right now. Their few brief intimate encounters had enlivened his life, but remained very much of a physical nature only and not as satisfying as either of them had wished. He genuinely wanted more from the relationship than just a gratification of his body's needs; realising Tara desperately wanted to get much closer to him. Yet he often found his thoughts straying elsewhere and felt guilty that he wasn't giving Tara the consideration she deserved.

Jannay was the next to disturb his work, exploding into the room in much the same manner he had earlier in the day. 

"Will you ever learn to knock!" Chakotay had been engrossed in calculations for the next group of simulations and Jannay's arrival had startled him. Course corrections, flight trajectories, and maps were all spread out over the surface of the desk, the bed, and beyond. 

"I see you got accepted too." Jannay's excited tone was forgiving of his friend's earlier bad mood. "I just finished my prep. Do you want to come down to the canteen for something to eat?" He noted the obvious reluctance in Chakotay's demeanour, urging persuasively, "Tara will be there."

"Thanks, but I still have lots to do here. Catch you later?"

With a wave of his hand Jannay prepared to leave, but not without one parting question, "If you don't want her anymore, mind if I make a play? Personally I think you're a fool; she's gorgeous."

"Go knock yourself out," Chakotay replied absently, returning to the complicated calculations that were driving him crazy.

It was late. The chronometer glared one thirty am at him accusingly, yet his afternoon siesta had ensured he would not be able to relax. Pulling open the bedside drawer he took out the akuna his mother had forwarded to him. It was his own of course, given him by Kolopak when he was seven years old. He had not used it since he was thirteen; the day his guide had dared to tell him that he was wrong. He had come out of his dreaming and thrown the akuna hard against the wall, vowing never again to seek counsel. The dent was still visible in his childhood room where metal had met solid stone. He had not realised that his mother had kept it for him; believing it lost and gone forever.

Feeling vaguely foolish, he sat down in the middle of the floor, cross-legged, the akuna in front of him. For ages he stared at it, trying to decide if he were doing this for the right reasons. Five years was a long time in a young man's life; so much had changed. Not only his perception of the world around him but, more disturbingly, his perceptions of himself. His stomach fluttered uneasily. What if his guide was no longer there for him? What if someone should interrupt him whilst he meditated? He got up quickly and returned the boxed akuna to its drawer before slipping back into bed.

He stared at the ceiling, noting every crack and dust mote until his eyes refused to focus. The akuna was calling to him, even though it was out of sight; it was still to the fore of his consciousness. He could almost feel the tingle of its power against his palm; sense the warmth it generated. Spirits! He had intended the word as a blasphemy, but it resounded in him as a plea. Giving in to the insistence of his soul, he resumed his place on the floor, akuna before him and gave himself over to the Sky Spirits.

"Akuchemoya..." The invocation sighed from his lips, warming him in places that had been cold for far too long. Almost immediately the huge wolf stood welcoming before him, the open sands of the desert lying peacefully around her. Burying his face in the warmth of her coat, she accepted him openly, and a sense of serenity infused him. He was home.

His hand slammed down on the console in pure frustration as he crashed the simulator for the second time. Although he was far from the only one to be experiencing such difficulties his confidence dropped further into his boots with each miserable failure. Navigating the moons of T'Por was acknowledged to be the toughest simulation, yet that information hardly helped when the person you most wanted to impress was less than two feet away watching you make an ass of yourself.

"Chakotay, Jannay and Turma, remain behind please. The rest are dismissed until 07.00 hours tomorrow when you will be ready to transport to Training Ground Epsilon. This is a three day mission, so pack accordingly." T'Mel's words cut through him like ice. He saw his own dismay reflected in his companions' eyes. She had kept them back because they had all done badly today. Surely that had to be it; she was going to dump them all from the course. His guide had promised him that all would be well; she had promised!

"Turma, retake your seat."

The young Bolian resumed his position, hands trembling slightly as he waited for T'Mel's instructions. 

"Computer, reset flight simulation Alpha 311." For the next thirty minutes she stood behind the quaking cadet, calmly pointing out his errors and talking him through the necessary corrections, until his confidence took him through the last manoeuvre successfully without any prompting. "Dismissed, Cadet. Report with the others in the morning. Jannay, take his place."

This time she chose a different simulation. Chakotay watched as she led his friend through the intricate pathways, finding it difficult to take his eyes off the tiny woman. The timbre of her voice thrilled through his adolescent body like wildfire, until Jannay's relieved sigh alerted Chakotay to the completion of the exercise. T'Mel's brisk dismissal left them alone for the first time since his chance encounter in the Academy grounds.

"Take the seat, Cadet."

He settled awkwardly into the chair, aware of her scrutiny. She stood behind him as she had the others, watching his every move, correcting and guiding. He did better than he had expected, only needing her serious intervention once. Whether it was the closeness of her presence or his own returning confidence, he succeeded in making it through intact.

"There! Much better, much better. Now why could you not do that before?" 

The question was not lightly asked and he realised with a shade of panic that she required an answer. "I ... I don't know. I thought I had it right the first time; I just didn't see that false reading for what it was. I'm sorry." He blinked at her back as she circled away from him, collecting data from the other consoles.

"I have noticed a marked improvement in your performance over this last week. Other tutors have remarked it upon also. To what would you accredit this sudden change?" She turned back to him, catching his gaze and holding it.

He felt embarrassed. Although contacting his guide had been in direct response to her own suggestion, it still cut uncomfortably to admit to it. She was obviously waiting for a reply and that Vulcan disposition would make it very easy for her to remain like this until he finally furnished a response. Swallowing hard, his mouth arid with anxiety, he told her what he suspected she already knew.

"I ... um ... I resumed my relationship with my guide." Her encouraging nod impelled him to continue. "I'd actually forgotten how much I got from her." His eyes moved away to fix on the console's now dead board. "She accepted my presence as though I had never turned away from her."

Putting the PADDs down, T'Mel swung round the chair at the next unit and sat facing him. Her relaxed attitude brought his attention back to her slim form and he stiffened slightly.

"I'm glad, Chakotay. Openness, acceptance, understanding; these are all things that will make you an officer of note. The small-minded stay small people. You have an opportunity not granted to many. You have the ability to know who you are." Her hands caught his, pressing them tightly together. "Grasp the opportunity. Take it in both hands and hold on to it." 

As quickly as her mood had swung one way, now she was all Vulcan again; cool and unapproachable. Stepping back from him, she reclaimed the data PADDs, dismissing him curtly. Confused and slightly hurt, he drew himself up to attention and quickly left the hanger.

Jannay was waiting impatiently outside. "Well, are you in?"

Before Chakotay could answer, T'Mel stepped into the corridor. "Both of you, 07.00 hours. Don't be late."

"Yes!" The exuberant cry of his redheaded compatriot sang along the corridor. Chakotay, whose focus was still fixed on T'Mel at that moment, caught the slight rise of her mouth in response. Jannay's hand slapped painfully into the centre of his back in congratulatory salute. "Let's go and celebrate."

The next few months became frenetic as tutors stepped up the pace for all the students. Theories that had not seemed terribly important now had to be put to practical use. T'Mel too, had increased her regime, taking her classes through ever more difficult courses at the helm of various craft. Epsilon seemed like a stroll after the last month; the successful completion of the advanced atmospheric manoeuvres syllabus being the cause of that nights rowdy celebration.

"To Venus!"

The salutation was immediately picked up and replied to. Voices raised in discordant harmony, echoed loudly around the crowded bar, "To Venus!" 

Chakotay sat nursing a brandy, his first real drink in a month, listening to the clink of glass as his classmates congratulated each other on the success of this latest training programme. One of the toughest yet most necessary courses that the aspiring pilots could take. He could still feel the shuttle bucking under him as he navigated the atmospheric storms that continually circled the beautiful planet. All the time aware of T'Mel's distracting presence. The snug fit of her flight suit, the subtle fragrance that was so much her whenever she stood close to him. He closed his eyes against the vision of her.

He sighed, opened his eyes and stared around him, noting Jannay's huddled figure in one of the booths, Liz's long blonde hair hanging close to his auburn flame. His mouth twitched in appreciation of the scene playing out before him. Jannay had had his eye on Liz since they arrived at Venus, pursuing her diligently ever moment he was not at the controls of a shuttle. 

He sighed again, wishing that the same freedom had been granted to him. T'Mel had seemed totally consumed by her Vulcan heritage all through the month. Giving praise grudgingly and equally to all her students. Her coldness had done nothing to stifle the ardour that burned in him, finding it harder and harder to work with her day after endless day. His nights were spent either in long sessions of meditation, where for once his guide had no helping words, or in the nearest bar where he tried to drown his over active senses in synthehol. A quest doomed to failure.

Dark, compelling eyes seemed to watch him from the bottom of his glass, drawing him down, down.

"We're off Chakotay, want us to walk you home?"Jannay's voice filtered through his reverie, jolting him back from the obsessive thoughts that were devouring him. He looked up quickly, giving the room a moment to stop spinning before focusing on his buddy. 

"Thanks, but no thanks. I expect you two would rather spend some time alone." His bright grin dispelled some of the concern he had registered on Jannay's face. "You go along, I'm just going to finish off this drink, then I'll be back to the dorm."

"You sure?" his compatriot's voice still edged with vague worry.

"Go, don't keep Liz waiting." His friend's eyes moved instinctively to the pretty blonde waiting just outside of earshot.

"Well, if you're sure?"

Chakotay forced a laugh, "I'm sure, now go. I'll see you in the morning."

Jannay's arm slid around Liz' waist as the two wove their way through the throng still celebrating their respective successes. He turned back to the bar, tossed down the last of his drink then tapped the glass on the counter. "Barman, another please."

Weaving unsteadily down the path, Chakotay wondered whether it had really been such a good idea to have that last Saurian brandy. He staggered, catching his foot on fresh air and tumbled heavily against 'his' bench; the one he had shared with T'Mel so many months ago. He patted its solid seat, making sure it was not going to suddenly sidle away from under him. 

He could still see her - elegant, perfect, compassionate. Hah, that was a laugh. The woman was solid ice. He rested his back against the slatted risers and stared at the glorious starry canvas above. The bright points of light winked at him, uncaring that his heart was being smashed into tiny pieces. He had worked hard hadn't he? He had made the top in every class ... well, except Temporal Mechanics... including hers, and yet still she ignored him. For treating his endeavours with scant regard, he hated her. Hated her? Loved her! Oh, damn!!

She was walking sedately toward him, her dress a red flame that glowed against her tanned skin. Black hair hung to her tiny waist in a waterfall of jet. He stared, blinked, and tried to focus. Spirits, just how much had he had to drink! He held out one hand and watched the slight tremor as he tried hard to keep it still. Hallucinations now! A groan escaped him and he returned his gaze to the taunting stars high overhead.

A small hand tapped lightly against his cheek. "Cadet?"

He brushed at the place where the vision's fingers had left a tingling sensation.

"Chakotay?" This time the slap left a smarting reminder of its contact with his skin; a painful interruption to his reverie.

"Ow!" He sat up, ready to defend himself, one hand pressed against sore flesh.

Hands on hips, a look of disgust on her face, T'Mel stood accusingly in front of him. Well, if this were an illusion, it packed quite a sting. "You're drunk, Cadet! Are you aware of the penalty for being in this state on Academy grounds?"

What did she care? It was all her fault anyway. If she had only noticed him. He could make her happy. He would be the best damn officer Starfleet had ever seen.

Not realising his mental ramblings had been voiced, he was surprised at the expletive that erupted from the woman in front of him.

"Come on, Chakotay. On your feet." Strong hands hauled him off the bench, propelling him toward the dormitory block. "That's it, one foot in front of the other."

She propped him up against the wall, one hand holding him in place while she coded the door. His arms slid around her, pulling her close. Burying his face in her hair, he breathed in her scent. Lips fumbled desperately for hers, his hands tightening painfully as he hugged her closer. She stood unresisting in his embrace, yet unresponsive to his blatant demands. After a moment he pulled back in confusion, releasing her. 

As if nothing had happened she steered him into the corridor, checked the room listings and urged his wandering feet down to Jannay's room. Knocking quietly on the door she got a surprisingly quick response. The tousled, sleepy cadet taking the situation in an instant. "Put him to bed, please. See that he reports to my office, 09.00 sharp."

"Yes, ma'am."

He waited until she was well out of sight before returning his attention to his now half-comatose friend. "You really did it this time. You damn fool! Are you trying to get yourself drummed out?"

Chakotay's response was to slide slowly down the wall, landing with a thud on the hard marble floor.

"Oh, no, you don't." Jannay hauled him upright, dragging him further down the hall to his own room and dumping him on his bed to sleep it off. "Of all the people to catch you," he grumbled, throwing a blanket across the now snoring Chakotay. "I'll say a prayer for you my friend. I think you're going to need it."

Someone was groaning close by. The sound echoed to the rhythmic pounding of photon torpedoes exploding in his tender skull. He wished they would shut up and just leave him to die in peace. Surely it was not possible to feel this bad and actually survive.

It was raining! Drops of water trickled down his cheeks tickling his neck and throat. A voice pricked annoyingly at his befuddled mind. "Come on, Chakotay. Time to get up."

More water splashing against his already clammy skin. Cautiously he opened one eye and immediately regretted it. Light blinded him, adding fuel to the pain already pulsing tenaciously to the back of his retina. The groaning increased in volume. 

"Moaning about it won't help. You went on one hell of a bender last night, didn't you! Come on, Sleeping Beauty, let's get you up."

Strong arms hauled him to a sitting position and the room spun sickeningly around him; his stomach lurching horribly. "Here, drink this." A glass was held to his lips, the smell from the concoction making his eyes water. 

"What is this stuff?" he muttered, unwilling to down any of the strange red brew without having a passing acquaintance with the contents.

"Family secret," Jannay whispered. "Believe me, it'll have you up, about, and ready for your appointment with the Ice Queen before you know it."

Jannay's voice was annoyingly pert to Chakotay's jaded ear. But, taking his courage in both hands, he tilted the glass and swallowed the vile contents in one gulp. It tasted far worse than it smelled and for a moment he was not sure it was going to stay down. Leaning back against the wall, he fervently hoped the potion was as good as his friend insisted.

Jannay was pottering around the room, pulling out fresh clothing and casting an eye over the latest set of course work; deliberately wasting time until Chakotay was fit enough to move. Surprisingly, it was not too long. The ingredients of the miracle mixture may have been a mystery, but they were certainly effective. He stood up and carefully moved to the mirror. Haggard features gazed back at him, bloodshot eyes focusing on an unnaturally pale face. His tongue had a coating of bright yellow that was downright offensive. He swallowed some water in tiny sips, testing out his stomach's reaction. 

"How're you doing?"

"Better," Chakotay muttered. Then, like the curtain rising on a stage, last night's debacle came flooding back in all its embarrassing glory. He felt the last of his colour drain from his face as the enormity of his actions hit home. Jannay, misinterpreting his blanched features, took a step back. "Hey, if you're gonna throw up, don't do it over me. I have classes in thirty minutes."

Chakotay waved his hand in gentle dismissal, urging his friend to leave. He needed privacy to recover from this as best he could. 

"Can't do that," Jannay informed him. "Promised T'Mel I would see you to her office this morning. Not that I was too thrilled about her knocking on my door in the middle of the night. Then again, I don't suppose she was too excited about having to steer you back here either. You were damn lucky she didn't turn you over to campus security there and then. Not that I want to be in your shoes, no sir. You had better practice your best grovelling if you're going to get away with this one."

Chakotay ignored him. Gingerly, he showered and dressed, each movement bringing back uncomfortable memories of a headache that still lurked deep in the recesses of his skull; afraid that any sudden move might cause it to erupt again.

True to his word, Jannay escorted him right to T'Mel's door. Chakotay entered quietly and the instructor's aide nodded to him to take a seat before leaving to advise his superior of the miscreant's arrival. No sooner had he been left alone than he was on his feet, pacing the small office like a caged targ. His insides fluttered ominously; yet not from the after effects of the previous night, but from the ordeal to be faced. 

Aeons passed. What was keeping her! Though he dreaded the encounter, he wanted to get it over with. Being drunk on campus was enough to have his record permanently marked; he didn't dare contemplate what making improper advances to a senior instructor would mean. 

"You may go in now."

He jumped, startled by the unheard approach of the aide. His face now flushed rather than ashen white. 

T'Mel's inner sanctum was small, utilitarian; comprising of a desk, storage rack for PADDs and a terminal. No personal ornaments or photos had found a home anywhere here. It was the most sterile room he had ever seen. She sat, hands clasped on the desk in front of her, eyes cold and unforgiving. The frigid gaze pierced him on the spot, staying his move to the centre of the room. He stiffened to attention; his own eyes fixed firmly six inches above her head.

"You have let me down, Chakotay," she began without preamble. "I excused your first blatant disregard of Academy rules because I understood the cause; and everyone is allowed one mistake. Last night, however, you made a conscious decision to flout those rules. You were aware of your actions, were you not, Cadet?" She waited a brief moment. "That was not a statement. I require an answer."

"Yes, ma'am. I was aware of my actions." His heart pounded uncomfortably in his chest as he awaited judgement.

"All privileges are revoked for one month. Plus, I will note this infraction on your permanent record. You will not let this happen again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Ma'am." He stiffened his already rigid body in acknowledgement of her decision. He heard the soft sigh of syntheplas as she settled back into her chair. His eyes drawn to her at last by a deeply exhaled sigh of her own. For the first time he noticed the dark rings around her eyes and the tired set of her shoulders. Gone was the staid Vulcan instructor; now all he saw was Sacheyewa.

"Chakotay, do you remember what occurred last night?" She watched the flush of red burn into his cheeks. "Mm, I see you do. I don't know how or why you feel the way you do about me, and I am flattered, but surely you realise that your regard was not reciprocated?"

He nodded, his throat constricting tightly against a rush of reality. 

"You have done well over the last few months. I have been proud of the hard work you have put in. The potential I saw fully justified. If I was the instigator of that, then I am glad. But I want you to promise me that you won't let all this go; that you will carry on and do the best you can. Not for me ... not for anyone other than yourself. You are more worthy of your own respect than anyone. Does that make any sense to you, Chakotay?"

It did. His guide had been saying as much to him for quite a while, dragging him through a gamut of self-professed crises; being there when he felt there was no one else to turn to. He nodded.

"This is my final year at the Academy," she said quietly.

His eyes latched on to hers for a brief instant noting the tightening of her face. 

"I want to see all my students reach the Honour Roll; not just in my discipline, but in every endeavour. I know that you will fulfil that dream for me. So I can be as proud of you as Kolopak will. You are the son of my father's brother friend, and that makes you as close to family as someone not of my blood can be. I will be here for you in that capacity, but I can never be anything more, Chakotay. I can be your guide, your friend; someone to talk to, but my heart is engaged elsewhere."

His heart was bruised, but not broken, and he realised suddenly that it was his ego that had taken the brunt of the hurt. He had expected her to look on him with such favour. Perhaps he should not allow his world to revolve around one woman; around one person's opinion of him. As she said, he was an individual who ultimately answered only to himself.

"Is there anything you wish to say?" She was watching him expectantly.

There was much, so much that he wanted to give vent to right now, but to do so would lower him in her eyes. He wanted to tell her how much he appreciated her candour; that he would still work hard for her whatever happened. That although she may not return his regard, her pride in him meant a great deal. Yet, to voice these feelings would only damage a relationship that could be much stronger than it was now. She was, as she rightly put it, almost family.

He shook his head, he could not tell her anything that would not serve to make the situation worse. Better to leave it as it stood. He took a giant leap toward maturity in that instant, learning a lesson that would stand him in good stead later in his life.

"Very well, Cadet. Dismissed."

The ceremony was almost over. Cadet after cadet had approached the rostrum, receiving commendations or commissions. Chakotay's year was the last but one to be called. Every single member of T'Mel's class so far had been passed with honours in her discipline. 

Tara stepped forward to receive her commendation, and a grin split his face as he watched her shake hands with Admiral Marsh. Since his talk with T'Mel, he and Tara had spent a lot of time together, much to Jannay's disgust. She joined him again, her hand quickly caught and squeezed by his own. Then his name was called. He had passed with honours in every single class, except Temporal Mechanics. That walk up to the dais seemed a hundred miles long. T'Mel caught his eye from her place at the back of the platform, a congratulatory nod filling him with a calmness that had departed screaming when he had first left his seat. A brisk handshake from the Admiral and he was returning to his place, commendation clutched tightly in hand.

Tutors, students and parents mixed freely after the ceremony ended. Parental fears at imagined failures allayed, congratulations exchanged between students.

Kolopak was making his way through the crowd to his son's side. Chakotay watched his progress in some trepidation, seeing his attention caught and diverted bare feet from him.

"Sacha!" His arms flung themselves around T'Mel in a welcoming hug. "It's so good to see you. Let me look at you!" He stood back to admire her. "I remember you so well. You haven't aged a day."

"You flatter me. Teaching these students has taken its toll believe me." Her voice resounded with laughter. "Let me introduce you." She turned to the tall, elegant human that accompanied her. "This is Darman, my fiancé. Darman, this is Kolopak, my father's oldest friend."

The two men shook hands politely.

Chakotay watched from his vantage point a few yards away, overhearing parts of the conversation. Fiancé? Ah, well, c'est la vie. Tara, her hand slipping into his, claimed his attention. "Who's that talking to T'Mel?" 

"The older man is my father." He would not reveal her betrothal to Darman; that was a private matter, and he understood the rules now.

Kolopak turned his feet back toward his son, pride glowing on his face, suffusing his whole body. His hand caught Chakotay's in a firm grip, and then he pulled him close, hugging him tightly and letting his approval wash through his son in glorious waves.

Chakotay caught T'Mel's eye and saw her smile. "Thank you," he mouthed.

She nodded, and taking Darman's arm moved into the sea of bodies; lost to him forever.

The end

Please review even if you hated it - tell me why!


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